"Well, what do you say to this?" asked Rafalski, as he exhibited the cat. "Isn't he charming? And yet he does not stand high in my favour, for he is awfully stupid--much more stupid than our ordinary cats." Rafalski then exclaimed hotly: "Another proof of the little we know and how wrongly we value our ordinary domestic animals. What do we know about the cat, horse, cow, and pig? The pig is a remarkably clever animal. You're laughing, I see, but wait and you shall hear." (Romashov had not shown the least signs of amusement.) "Last year I had in my possession a wild boar which invented the following trick. I had got home from the sugar factory four bushels of waste, intended for my pigs and hot-beds. Well, my big boar could not, of course, wait patiently. Whilst the foreman went to find my servant, the boar with his tusks tore the bung out of the cask, and, in a few seconds, was in his seventh heaven. What do you say of a chap like that? But listen further"--Rafalski peered out of one eye, and assumed a crafty expression--"I am at present engaged in writing a treatise on my pigs--for God's sake, not a whisper of this to any one. Just fancy if people got to hear that a Lieutenant-Colonel in the glorious Russian Army was writing a book, and one about pigs into the bargain; but the fact is, I managed to obtain a genuine Yorkshire sow. Have you seen her? Come, let me show you her. Besides, I have down in the yard a young beagle, the dearest little beast. Come!" "Pardon me, Ivan Antonovich," stammered Romashov, "I should be only too pleased to accompany you, but--but I really haven't the time now." Rafalski struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh, yes, what an incorrigible old gossip I am. Excuse me--I'll go and get it--come along." They went into a little bare room in which there was literally nothing but a low tent-bedstead which, with its bottom composed of a sheet hanging down to the floor, reminded one of a boat; a little night-table, and a chair without a back. Rafalski pulled out a drawer of the little table and produced the money. "I am very glad to be able to help you, ensign, very glad. If you please, no thanks or such nonsense. It's a pleasure, you know. Look me up when convenient, and we'll have a chat. Good-bye." When Romashov reached the street, he ran into Viätkin. Pavel Pavlich's moustaches were twisted up ferociously, _à la_ Kaiser, and his regimental cap, stuck on one side in a rakish manner, lay carelessly thrown on one ear. "Ha, look at Prince Hamlet," shouted Viätkin, "whence and whither? You're beaming like a man in luck." "Yes, that's exactly what I am," replied Romashov smilingly. "Ah-ah! splendid; come and give me a big hug." With the enthusiasm of youth, they fell into each other's arms in the open street.